


living in a magical girl hentai is fun and games until the bad touch starts

by butthulu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bigender Character, M/M, Magical Girls, Monsters, Oral Sex, Trans Character, hentai taken seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butthulu/pseuds/butthulu
Summary: John Egbert is a normal person half the time, and a giant-hammer-wielding, super-strong, monster-fighting magical "girl" the other half. But he's pretty sure he's not a girl! Maybe? Definitely probably. He's got bigger things to worry about, anyways! Like a rival who gets on his nerves like, ALL the time, and the monsters who want to get in his pants without taking him on a date first. They seem to be trying to invade more often, what's up with that?





	living in a magical girl hentai is fun and games until the bad touch starts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pearlybj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlybj/gifts), [Clamdiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clamdiver/gifts).

> "_i have faith that the world i’m in_  
_will be redeemed to its place again_  
_but there’s a weight that i can’t explain_  
_so tell me why i feel this way_"

"I just don't get what the big deal is, that it could spark a whole debate," John says, tapping his fingers on the bar. He's still got soot and dirt on his face. He doesn't really care. It's only been five minutes, tops, since he beat the monster of the week, and he's still waiting for the transformation to wear off. "It's just a title."

"People are weird about gender," says Dirk. He's looking as immaculate as ever, the bastard. John is extremely jealous. Why can't he have a rival that's less.... perfect? It takes all the fun out of it. "I mean, it seems misleading, to them, that you'd be called a magical girl while you're still, y'know, a dude. _ I _ get it, but most people, they take the girl thing at face value, because the transformation gives you tits."

John makes a face, scrunching his nose up. "They're so inconvenient," he mutters. "I really don't get why that happens."

He catches Dirk eyeing him appraisingly, and raises his eyebrows. Before he can ask, Dirk speculates, "Could be repressed desires."

"I'm pretty sure that if I wanted boobs, I would be the first person to know about it."

Dirk holds up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I'm not saying you want boobs. I'm just saying, if you had a subconscious desire to be a girl, or whatever, the way you perceive girls and the transformation into your 'ideal self' during power-up time could be giving you tits. If you think girls should have tits- which is _ very _ cissexist, by the way- and you wanted to be a girl, or, I guess, are a girl and haven't realized, then the transformation could be fulfilling that subconscious wish."

God, John desperately wishes that didn't make sense. "But wouldn't I know if I was a girl?" He wishes that wasn't a question he had to _ ask_. 

"Not necessarily," Dirk counters. "I mean, fuck, it's not like queer people always know right out of the gate. I sure as hell didn't." He taps his fingers on the bar in an imitation of John's movements, but they don't make any sound, because he's not actually there. He never is. It's very frustrating, but John has conceded that it's necessary to cut down on the amount of haymakers he clocks Dirk in the jaw with for being such a smug bitch all the time.

"You're showing a shocking amount of consideration for someone not you," John says, hoping to change the topic to something less uncomfortable for himself personally. He does this a lot. Usually it involves making Dirk just as uncomfortable as John was before the topic change. It often works. 

Case in point: Dirk's hologram blushes, a real-time conveyance of his actual reaction to John's words. "I've been trying to be less of an asshole," he mutters, looking down at the bar seat under his holographic projector. It's dusty, and burnt, and barely visible through his legs. "Probably because you're a bad influence."

John asks, "Is it a bad influence if you're making a turn for the better because of it?" 

He doesn't get an answer, because the battery in the projector "dies". He knows it doesn't actually die, and that Dirk is running away from the conversation, because the batteries on those things last for_ ever. _ John scoops it up, tucking it into his bra, under his boob. Since his dress doesn't come with pockets(seriously, _ fuck _ whoever decided girls' clothes shouldn't have pockets), he stores a lot of stuff in his bra. This _ does _ tend to make his boobs spill out of the top of his outfit a lot, but like, what the fuck ever. It's not like he cares if he has a nip slip or something. Boo hoo, someone saw a girl nipple, it's not the end of the fucking world. People have seen _ way _ worse from him during battles. It's not _ his _ fault if monsters and villains have this weird fixation with literally ripping his clothes off. He used to give a shit, back when this body was new to him and he was embarrassed about that kind of thing, but at this point, he's just used to it. It's actually rarer to not lose some article of clothing in a battle than it is to finish one completely buck fucking naked. John's pretty sure he lives in a hentai.

Since there's nothing keeping him here anymore, he slides off of the bar stool with a rustle of shitty(soft) ruffle fabric, smooths out his skirt to make sure it's not flipped up in the back, and leaves the absolutely ruined bar behind through the hole in the wall he was thrown through by the monster. He heads home, high heels abandoned in the middle of the street.

==========================

Being famous makes going out difficult. 

If you'd think that having the domino mask obscures any of John's features, you'd be pretty much dead wrong. Despite what people think and say about the identity-obfuscating qualities of the ever-popular domino mask, it's just a fucking.... colored mask that covers the area around his eyes. It's really not the best disguise that his stupid magical "girl" transformation could have cooked up. Dirk probably thinks it's indicative of a subconscious desire to be recognized for his hard work or something, but John thinks that that's stupid, too. He doesn't want to be recognized. His face doesn't change from body to body, so even if his mask didn't get torn off like ninety percent of the times he goes into battle, pretty much anyone can recognize him in his "civilian" form.

Half the time, when he goes out, he disguises himself with heavy contouring and a wig to make himself blonde. The other half of the time, he's swarmed by fans and, uh, "admirers". People who want to get into his pants, basically. John's learned his lesson not to indulge them from too many one night stands and swiftly aborted relationships that he severed because they fetishized the fact that he's like, a girl sometimes, but not always. They always have so many _ questions, _ questions that are dumb and uncomfortable and honestly just downright offensive. Some of them wanted him to transform for them. Some of the people he's dated, ones who weren't his "admirers", thought it was weird that he could transform at all, and never wanted to hear about it or see him in uniform(or whatever it's called, John's still deciding even though it's been years). Everyone's either too interested, or disgusted, and it's just.

Better not to bother.

Today, he's just going out to get groceries, so he just uses the wig, and covers the lower half of his face with a dust mask, which is a _ way _ better way of disguising himself than that stupid domino mask. It covers most of his face, assuring that he won't be recognized. He wears his contacts, like always, so in case he has to fight a villain or a monster in the middle of errands, he won't have to worry about his glasses getting lost or broken and then having to fight without being able to see five feet in front of his face. He figured out it was easier to just wear contacts everywhere about six weeks into the magical "girl" gig. Dirk's the only one who knows that he even needs glasses anymore. 

Dirk knows a lot of things about him that nobody else does.

Time to think about something else other than that prick! John forcefully diverts his train of thought onto his walking route, and making sure it's correct and not taking him in the completely wrong direction. He's done that, before. Sometimes he gets so wrapped up in his head that he starts walking and doesn't realize he's going the wrong way until he's five blocks up from the turn he should have taken to get to where he's going. John can't afford to get distracted, today. Groceries are _ important. _ He's out of ramen packets, and all his other food is gone, too. Being the sole defender of the city(Dirk doesn't _ count, _ he's a shitty defender) is a full-time job, and it burns a lot of calories, so he eats a lot. His dad sends him a stipend every couple of weeks, but he has a hard time making it stretch, sometimes, and he doesn't want to seem like he's being ungrateful by asking for more. It's made him get.... inventive, with his meal planning.

Dirk has extended offers of help. He's extended _ lots _, actually. But John was here first, and Dirk was _ killing _ the monsters instead of just giving them concussions and sending them back to wherever they came from with their tails between their legs. John thinks that's wrong. Dirk says that's naive and dangerous. Maybe it is!! But killing things is _ wrong. _ Beating them up is.... less wrong. More effective than asking what the hell they want, in any case. Half the time, they can't answer, because, _ duh, _ monsters. The ones that _ can _ talk never have anything useful to say- they just talk and talk and talk, and John kinda ends up tuning them out whether or not he actually wants to listen to what they have to say. It's just a lot of words that don't _ say _ anything, and John really wishes they would just give him the sparknotes on what they want instead of talking at him for half a goddamn hour. _ Dirk _ at least knows how to get to the point quicker than that, even if it's not by much. 

Ugh, he took a wrong turn again. 

John backtracks and sighs heavily. In any case, the monsters all are a bunch of creepy jerks that deserve to get their asses kicked _ anyways. _ They've never tried to like, kill anyone, so John doesn't think they deserve to die. The worst they've done to anyone, as far as he knows, is initiate some _ serious _ Bad Touch, which is, well, it's bad, like, really bad, but it's not _ murder. _ Some of them have displayed sentience, and John just really cannot understand why Dirk thinks it's okay to kill sentient beings. 

Maybe he doesn't anymore? He _ did _ say that he was turning over a new leaf! John could ask. Maybe there's still some hope for him.

But that doesn't even matter!!! Because Dirk is a jerk, and John doesn't want to work with him even if he's not killing things anymore.

He's so focused on definitely and unfortunately thinking about Dirk that he doesn't notice the monster until it's literally fallen out of the sky and landed in front of him, cracking the concrete. It looks like a hellhound, or, what people would typically describe as a hellhound. It's really just a ten-foot-tall dog with like, a mane, and some wicked sharp claws. There's some bones in its mane, and, yep, it has its dick out. Wonderful. This is going to be one of _ those _ fights. 

"God, can you just give me _ one _ day off?" John sighs deeply and activates his Wonder Crystal Or Whatever™, setting off his transformation sequence. On go the high heels(which he promptly kicks off), and the dress and its dumb skirt, and the gloves. Out comes his hammer. Nobody ever interrupts the transformation sequence because they _ will _ be atomized by the beams of intense light that surround him during the event. They learned that the hard way- even the ones that aren't very smart know to stand the hell back, nowadays. 

John and the hellhound both spring into action as soon as the transformation finishes, John dodging a swipe that the hellhound sends in his direction. It's more of a gesture than anything meant to injure, testing the waters to see if John will be easy prey. (Of _ course _ he won’t be.) John is used to this, and sends a returning hammer swing in the hound's direction, which the hound shies away from, dancing back.

After that, the fight escalates until they've both taken a few hits, and they're moving too fast for most people to track. He gets in a lucky blow to the hound's muzzle, making it yelp loudly enough to hurt John's ears. For a moment he feels bad, but then he remembers that it's _ definitely _ trying to fuck him without asking or even taking him on a date first. That makes him feel less bad.

The collar hidden in the hound's mane activates, and it teleports or whatever, going back to where it came from. John did at least learn that they teleport home, from one of the talkative ones, and it was useful information, too! He would feel just awful if they got vaporized or whatever just for losing. That would make his whole no-kill rule...... well, kind of moot. He'd still have blood on his hands, at least in part. Kind of? He's thought about it a lot, but there's really no good answer. Solving moral conundrums isn't exactly his strong suit. 

Unfortunately, since the transformation won't wear off for a while and there's broken glass everywhere, John has to go back and put his high heels on. He _ sucks _ at walking in them, even though he's had plenty of time to get used to them. They're painful, and the heels are a good three inches tall, so he's always wobbly in them. It's easier to not fight in them in the first place. He really wishes he could get rid of them entirely, just swap them out for something nicer, like.... mary janes, maybe? With little bows. That'd be nice. They'd go with the outfit better. 

Shopping is way more awkward when he's got a pack of people who are really bad at not looking like they're following him. He does his best to ignore them as he considers his grocery options, which is made easier by none of them approaching him for autographs or hugs. He even makes it to checkout without being bothered by anyone except some exceptionally helpful employees! 

When he gets outside, though, another beast is waiting for him. He sighs, puts his bags down, and pulls his hammer out.

==========================

The attacks are getting more frequent.

It starts with the day he went shopping. It's not _ unheard of _ to get two attacks in one day, but usually attacks are spaced out over the span of weeks. One on one day, one a week later, then a week and a day after that, and so on. But now, they're coming every other day. John has barely had any time to recover, and he's starting to think he's going to _ need _ Dirk's help. He's _ exhausted. _ He can't just leave the monsters to their own devices, because they'll- well, they'll probably abduct people or have their way with them, which is bad. John doesn't want that. 

Three weeks go by like this. Then the attacks increase in frequency to every day. John breaks. He can't do this alone! This is too much work for one person, damnit! He's got bruises on top of other bruises, and his tailbone took the brunt of a fall the other day and it's making it hard to walk. Not even the rush of energy he gets from transforming is enough to wipe away the bags under his eyes. 

John calls up Dirk over the phone. He's got Dirk's number; Dirk gave it to him "just in case", a while back, but this is the first time he's ever called it. Dirk picks up on the third ring. 

"Y'llo?" He sounds breathless, like he ran to the phone. It stops John for a moment, because he's never heard him like that, and it's making his heart do a weird flippy thing. 

"Uh, hi. Dirk." Why is his mouth dry? He's not _ nervous, _ that's stupid, Dirk has been practically begging him for this for ages. Stop being nervous, Egbert. "So. Uh. I don't know if you watch the news, but. There's been a lot of attacks lately. Like, so many. Every day. And.... I can't.... keep up with it, anymore. I'm really tired. Will.... will you help me?"

Silence. God, he can practically hear Dirk coming up with and discarding snarky responses. John rubs the bridge of his nose, sighing into the mic and not even caring that it probably hurts Dirk's ear. "Please?"

John only has to sit in silence for another couple seconds before Dirk gets over himself enough to say, "Yeah, man. Sure. We should talk about this more in person. Let's meet up, okay? I'll send you a location over text." Dirk hangs up without letting John say anything else, and less than ten seconds later, John gets a text from his number with an address. It's nearby, thankfully. John gets dressed and heads out. 

Dirk isn't there when John arrives. He isn't there in the next ten minutes, either. At minute fifteen, John texts him: _ are you coming, or not? _

He doesn't get a reply. It makes him feel.... jittery. Is Dirk just driving? That must be it. He wouldn't stand John up. Would he? Surely he's not that much of an asshole. He said he was turning over a new leaf.

Something rustles behind him. Or- not rustles. It sounds like... like metal scraping on stone. Or like.... like scales on concrete.

John turns.

A snake with a human torso on the end- a naga, his brain helpfully supplies while he stands there, frozen, like an idiot- looms above him, grinning. It strikes before John can transform, wrapping him up in its coils. They bind his arms to his sides, and his legs together, squeezing tight enough that he can barely breathe. Something hard and wet pokes against his ass, and he lets out a low, unhappy groan. Of _ course. _ These assholes never think about anything else! He wiggles, trying his hardest to get out of his bindings, but the naga just squeezes tighter, actually cutting off his air for a few seconds. When it loosens its grip, he gasps for air, red-faced and teary-eyed. 

Where is Dirk? Did he set this up? John didn't trust him much in the first place, but he still feels betrayed.

The naga lifts part of its coils up, shifting so John slides out of his pants like he's being unwrapped, like food or something. Its dicks press up against the cleft of his ass, a little wet from how aroused it is. John sends a prayer to whatever gods are listening that he gets out of this situation. 

Dirk rounds the corner. John gets to see his eyes widen, and then things happen very fast. His head hits the concrete, and the world goes blurry and dizzy. Fighting noises filter in through the ringing in his ears, and then he's being tugged gently up into a sitting position. Somehow his pants got back on? How'd that happen without him noticing? Everything is spinning and tilting, despite John being very certain that he's not moving at all, and it makes him want to close his eyes and lay down. When he tries, though, Dirk leans into his field of vision and says, "Nuh uh, John, you're not going to sleep yet. Keep your eyes open, okay? Focus on me. I'm gonna get you home."

"Y'don' know where I live," John slurs, his tongue feeling as heavy as his eyelids, which is very.  
  
“My home,” Dirk clarifies. That makes more sense. John nods, which hurts, like, a lot. Dirk slings John's arm around his shoulders, and lifts him, bridal-style. It makes John feel kinda fancy, but words are hard, so he just lays his head against Dirk's shoulder and watches the scenery instead of closing his eyes. The world falls away underneath them, and they skate over the tops of buildings. John isn't sure how until he sees spider-like metal legs cross his field of vision. Must be something Dirk made. Neat.

It's a long time until they get to Dirk's place. It's on the edge of town- Dirk must have gone _ really _ fast to get to John so quickly. The ground rushes up to meet them, but they don't crash. Instead, Dirk sets down on his feet and carries John inside. Inside looks like a normal house, except there's a bunch of metal and tech projects everywhere, covering most available surfaces, including the couch. Dirk puts John in his chair, which is the only thing without parts on it, and asks, "What's your full name?"

"Johnathan Egbert." 

"Age?"

"Twen- twenny- twenty three." Fuck, words are hard.

"Alter ego name?"

"Don't have one, stupid. You know that." 

For some reason, this makes Dirk smile. He pats John's knee, and says, "You probably have a concussion. If you can remember stuff and answer questions, though, it must be pretty mild. You should sleep- I'll keep an eye on the city while you rest." John opens his mouth to protest, but Dirk puts a finger to his lips. "No, shut up, you can't go back out there with a concussion, you're gonna get hurt worse, and then where would I be? Down one magical boy, that's where. The city would split in half without you, not to mention my heart." He pantomimes a heart cracking in half.

John snorts, and lifts a hand(why is it so _ heavy, _ good god) to push lightly at Dirk's head. "Shut uuuup. You don't even _ like _ me."

Dirk says, "Of course I like you, don't be dumb. C'mon, up you get." He lifts John up again and carries him down a hallway and into a bedroom. Judging by the posters on the walls, it must be Dirk's. John thinks about protesting, but Dirk's bed is really soft, and he's asleep within moments.

==========================

When he wakes up, the city is _ not _ on fire. It's dark, blissfully so, and John feels tired, and sore. His head hurts. His mouth is dry, and tastes like something died in it, so he gets up, very carefully, and shuffles to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He has to lean on the wall to do so, but he gets there. 

Water is the best. It tastes _ so _ good. John is convinced for a moment that there's something that's been added to make it taste so good, but then that ridiculousness passes and he just takes a moment to appreciate it. 

Dirk is passed out at his desk. John goes over to him and pokes his shoulder. Dirk does not stir. With a sigh, John shakes him more vigorously, and it still takes like, three minutes of that before Dirk wakes up. "You should go to bed," John tells him, and Dirk doesn't argue. He just gets up and trudges to his room. John clears a space for himself on the couch, goes to the bathroom, and goes back to sleep. 

==========================

Turns out, "fighting monsters" is definitely on the list of things that you shouldn't do when you have a lingering concussion. And Dirk is in _ perfect _ health, and his house is packed to the teeth with hidden turrets and booby traps outside that will activate as soon as a monster even so much as sets foot on his lawn, while John's apartment is pretty much only defended by John himself, so John is stuck living with Dirk while Dirk goes out and kills monsters.

"Can't you just.... knock them out with a sleeping gas or something? Some of them are sentient, which means you're killing _ people, _" John pleads, two days after his concussion.

Dirk levels a look at him that gives John goosebumps. "They're trying to rape people, John," he says, and that's the end of that discussion. It's all he says when John tries to bring it up again.

On the fifth day, though, Dirk asks, "Have you ever actually listened to their monologues, John? They lay out their whole evil plan like, as soon as you ask about it. They were _ eager _ to tell me, when I did. It's like they're trying to sell me on it, get me on their side, but I said, fuck that, dude, and shot him in the face, because John, they're trying to _ rape people, _ and I don't mean just you and me, I mean _ everyone. _"

That makes John stop and blink for a second. He asks, "Wait.... really? I kind of tuned them out after the first couple sentences- I was sixteen and I never really..... had time to listen to their whole shpiel, and then after I graduated highschool I just didn't think they had anything new to say." Now he feels bad. He knew they were bad, and needed to be stopped, generally speaking, but.... "What are they planning?"

"They're trying to turn humanity into a breeding ground," Dirk summarizes, and John wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"Oh. Ew."

"Yeah," Dirk says. "'Ew' is right."

John lets him do his own thing, after that.

==========================

Being concussed and stuck at home- er, Dirk's house- gives John a lot of time to think. Dirk has his videogame consoles, dusty with disuse, and John plays those for a while, but Dirk only has so many games, and it's only a matter of time before John gets bored. He lays on his back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, and _ thinks. _

Okay, so.... the monsters are definitely evil, and killing them seems to be the only way to get rid of the threat they pose. That's.... really unfortunate, and John isn't looking forward to doing that, but he understands that it's necessary. He wishes it wasn't, but that's not the world he lives in. Fighting off an invading force for good is..... well, it's better than the alternative, which is... letting them do what they want with mankind. Just _ thinking _ about _ that _ and how passive and blase he was about it makes his stomach turn. So he moves on to a different topic.

Dirk. Dirk is.... nice. Less of a jerk, now that John's gotten to know him. He's kinda prickly, and _ very _ awkward sometimes, but it's not the creepy kind of awkward! It's really not. He just.... doesn't seem to know how to talk to people, and that includes John. When John isn't assuming the worst out of everything that comes out of Dirk's mouth, when he isn't _ trying _ to take an oppositional stance, Dirk can be.... kinda charming? And it makes John think a bit more about the stuff Dirk's said, in the past.

Like.... like the girl stuff.

What's up with that, anyways? It's not like John is completely ignorant of gender identity stuff, he's met trans people, he's done research. He just never really identified with any of the labels he'd found online. Trans doesn't fit- he likes his name, and he doesn't mind his pronouns, and it'd be a _ really _ big hassle to try and get anyone to refer to him as something else! Honestly, it'd be _ way _ more hassle than it's worth. But he doesn't _ mind _ transforming when he fights. It's not like he minds having boobs, except when they get in the way of doing stuff- and yeah, he gets a vagina, too, big woop. He's fiddled around with it out of sheer curiosity, and while having the ability to cum more than once is _ beyond _ awesome, he really kinda prefers being able to jerk off with a dick just because of the sheer convenience factor. 

But the longer he thinks about it, the less sure he is that that's normal, or whatever. Would most people _ mind _ that stuff? After a couple more hours of research, he finds that the answer is, yeah, a lot of people would mind. Which makes him feel kinda.... stumped. If he's not trans, and he's definitely not cis, and he's not... the other stuff he's found out about, what is he? He's used to having words to define himself, and not having one really makes him uncomfortable.

==========================

Dirk comes home on the tenth(and hopefully final) day of John's concussion to find John on the roof, in full kit, sitting on the edge and looking out over the city in the dark. Dirk's house sits atop a fairly big hill, providing a nice view- all the way to downtown, even. John's legs hang over the edge, swinging back and forth, and when Dirk approaches, he asks, "Remember when we talked about the whole.... repressed gender desires thing?"

"Yeah." Dirk sits on the edge with him, swinging his legs down so they dangle like John's. They're close, within arm's reach, but not so close they brush arms naturally. "Why do you ask?"

John's silent for a while. Then: "I think I'm not cis."

Huh. "Okay," Dirk says. "That it?"

"No, that's not it!!" John throws his hands up, and kicks his legs so hard he nearly falls off the edge. "I don't _ know _ what I am!! It's like- I'm _ fine _ with the idea of being a girl, I _ guess?? _ But I'm not trans, and I'm not cis. I don't know enough about this stuff to know what I am. It _ bothers _ me."

Dirk gets that. He doesn't really get it personally, but Roxy couldn't figure out what the fuck was going on with him for a long time, and Dirk learned from him. He didn't understand for a long time, but he wanted to, so he did what he did best: he overthought and overanalyzed and did an obsessive amount of research, until he'd gathered every possible relevant scrap of information about it, and now he still doesn't understand, but at least he can give other people the tools to categorize their feelings, if they want to.

So he asks, "D'you want me to give you a list of labels and explain the ones you don't know?"

John nods. So Dirk does. He lists out every label that he knows of, all the common ones and then the ones that are less known, until he hits on one that John likes.

"Bigender," John says, rolling it around in his mouth. "Two or more genders. So.... I don't _ have _ to decide on one or the other? I can be both? Like being bisexual?"

"Yeah, man," Dirk says. "Like that. You can be both."

"Cool."

They sit there and talk until the sun comes up, and then John says, "Hey Dirk?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you, before. You had the right idea the whole time, and I didn't want to listen, and I said some really shitty stuff. I think you're pretty cool."

"Well, shit," Dirk replies. "You need to disabuse yourself of _ that _ notion right fucking quick. I'm definitely not cool. I'm the furthest thing from cool. Cool and I got married and then had the worst most shitty divorce when cool found out that I was definitely using it for social status instead of being confident in myself and coming about it the right way."

John looks over at him and smiles, ear-to-ear, and it makes Dirk's heart do a flippy thing. "Hmmm, maybe you're right," he says, still smiling. He nudges Dirk's shoulder with his own. "You're kind of a dork. It's nice, though. I like that about you."

He leans in to kiss him, and Dirk's brain kinda short circuits.

They don't have sex, after that. But they do sleep together, in the same bed. It's the best night of rest either of them have had in a long time.

==========================

"So, what's our game plan?" It's the morning after their talk, and John's feeling adequately rested at ten in the morning, which is more of a fucking miracle than anything else that happens to him on a daily basis. His concussion seems to be gone- he's not feeling dizzy or headache-y- and he's ready to get back out there and stop pulling punches. Things are different now that he knows what the monsters are really up to. He's not looking _ forward _ to, uh.

To doing what he has to.

But! He has to. So.

Dirk says, "We can't just keep on like normal. The attacks have been increasing in frequency and severity, and they've actually abducted a couple of people. But I managed to put a tracking device on one of them, and it's tracked them up to the dark side of the moon, which is such an obvious place to hide that I don't even know why I bothered. Fucking tropes."

Well. That's... something. He's worried about the people who have been abducted, of course, but he can't help them right this second, so he shifts his worry to the back of his mind and focuses on what he can do about the problem in front of him. "So..... how are we going to get there? I can fly, but I definitely can't breathe in space."

He gets a look from Dirk that makes him _ feel _ like he's suddenly grown a second head. Self-conscious, he hikes his shoulders up defensively and asks, "What??"

"Dude. I'm a good engineer, but I don't think I can build a fucking spaceship. Not with the materials I have."

John's cheeks get all pink. "I didn't say you could, or that I wanted you to," he mutters, except he kinda did imply that, didn't he. He sighs. "Okay. So. Visiting the moon is out unless we get NASA on our side or something, and even then that'll take a long time, 'cause I doubt they just _ have _ spaceships laying around."

Dirk taps his foot really fast, which John's starting to learn is his indicator that he's thinking really hard. He's staring at the table, his lips moving just a little to half-form words. John wonders if he used to mutter to himself. He must have. John's so focused on his lips that when Dirk speaks, it actually startles him a little. 

"We could make them come to us," he says.

That's an interesting idea. "How? I've been at this for actual years. They've never come here except individually." He _ assumes _ they've attacked other parts of the world, and he knows other magical people exist, but they've never reached out to him, that he knows of. They're probably too busy fighting their own battles. He's been too busy fighting his, after all.

Dirk hums, and rubs his eyes. "Uh. Hm. I don't know. Or-" He sits up straight, eyes wide. "We could surrender."

Now John's the one giving Dirk a Look. "Surrender. To.... the rapey monster aliens. Uh. _ Why? _"

"They've been doing abductions, right? And they don't typically stick around once they've got the abductees captured. So if one of them takes us to their ship, I _ assume _ they'll have an atmosphere on the ship that we can breathe, since otherwise they'd just be left with corpses. Either that, or they'll give us some way of breathing. So we don't have to build a spaceship. They'll do all the work for us."

It's kind of a bad plan, but at the rate that Dirk says the monsters have been coming, there's no way just the two of them can whittle away their forces one by one until they're nothing. They'd die of exhaustion.

"Okay," he says. "Let's do it. Just- not today. Let's keep fighting for a while." Just in case they fail.

==========================

They keep fighting. And it _ is _ exhausting, of course it is. But John doesn't want to get up there, out in space, in the eleventh hour, and find out that he _ can't _ kill a monster, that he doesn't have what it takes and Earth is doomed because of him, or something. (Logically he knows that the fate of Earth doesn't rest solely on his shoulders, but sometimes it really feels like it does.) He finds out that he can kill a monster. He also finds out that it feels awful, and that he'll puke afterwards pretty much every time. He stops eating right before excursions, so he wastes less food. His stomach is appreciative of it; once he's done dry heaving, he can go home- back to Dirk's place- and eat, and he'll be fine. Mostly.

He cries a lot. Dirk doesn't seem to know what to do about it. That's okay. John doesn't know what to do about it either.

Finally, he feels like he's ready to carry out their plan. But... there's something he wants to do, first, with Dirk. If they fail, then he can at least say that they did this together. There's other stuff he wants to do with Dirk, too, like, normal couple stuff? But that has to wait until after their plan. If they succeed. If they succeed, John will do _ so _ many couple-y things with Dirk that Dirk will never ever have to question how John feels about him.

==========================

He approaches Dirk in the evening. Dirk's bent over his workbench, as he often is when they're at home, working on what looks like a blinky grenade. John has no fucking clue what it's for, and he doesn't ask. What he does is drape himself over Dirk's back and kiss his neck.

"Hey," he says. 

"Hey," Dirk mumbles back, his focus not shifting. John rolls his eyes and bites his neck to get his attention. Dirk yelps and puts down his tool, turning in his swivel chair to face John. "What the hell was that... for...?"

John's giving him the best approximation of bedroom eyes that he can. From the look on Dirk's face, the message has been communicated, if not the effect. Dirk looks like he's trying not to laugh at him. John huffs and pushes off, rolling his eyes. "Well, if you don't _ want _ to-" 

Dirk catches his hand to keep him from leaving. "No, no," he says, smiling. It even reaches his eyes. John can tell because he pushes his shades up and out of the way, into his hair. "I want to. You're just.... cute. That's all."

He huffs, but he doesn't really feel _ so _ offended. Dirk's the only one who gets to call him cute, no matter what form he's in. It's not belittling, when Dirk says it. "And you're hot," John says. "C'mon. Let's... go to your room?" It's kind of been a while since he's done this, and he was never really, uh, serious about anyone else, so there was a lot of like, sex on couches and against walls and one night stand frenzy energy. This feels like he can take it at his own pace, which is nice.

They go to Dirk's room, and John feels kinda nervous about stripping, which is dumb because he's pretty sure everyone and their mom has seen him naked at some point due to circumstances. It just feels different when he's doing it of his own volition. He wants Dirk to like what he sees. When he sees Dirk's face after he strips, he knows Dirk does, and the tight knot of anxiety in his chest loosens. Dirk's already naked, except for his boxers, and John takes a moment to look at him.

Dirk's got freckles, like, _ everywhere. _ John's seen them on his face and shoulders and arms, but now he knows that Dirk's got them everywhere. He's covered in a thick layer of them, all over his chest, and arms, and legs, all the way up his thighs even. His skin is a light brown, and the freckles are darker. The lighter spots shining through make his skin look like it's dappled in sepia sunlight. He's built skinny, lean in a way a past John would be kinda envious of; he's got just enough padding on him to be soft, but his joints are all sharp in a way that's weirdly appealing. John's very sure that if he told Dirk that, Dirk would think he's crazy, but he thinks Dirk's beautiful. All of him, really. 

John himself is kinda pudgy. Yes, he has muscle, and quite a lot of it, but he's never quite been able to shed the fat that's covered him in curves since he was a kid. When he was seventeen he stopped wanting to. He read about strongmen, who looked just like him but with bigger muscles, and started focusing on building strength instead of shedding weight. (It transfers over no matter what form he's in.) He's pale in some places and tanned from being outside so much in others- he's got a t-shirt tan, which he can tell Dirk finds kinda funny, but Dirk doesn't say anything, so John doesn't either. 

They reach out for each other at the same time.

"You're sure you wanna do this?" Dirk asks it just as John's settling into his lap. Their fingers lace together, with John initiating. John just raises his eyebrows at Dirk, and Dirk says, "That's not an answer, John, c'mon. Do you really want this?"

John thinks he's being kinda silly, but he knows Dirk's insecure. They did kind of go from being sort-of-antagonistic sort-of-rivals to live-in boyfriends over the course of a week, no matter how long it's been since John kissed him on the roof, so John gets it. "Yeah, I do," he tells him. "I want _ you, _ Dirk. I like you a lot, and I want to have sex with you."

"Cool," Dirk says, sounding kinda breathless. John thinks maybe he forgot that his shades aren't on, because he's looking at John like he hung the stars and moon. It's pretty cute. John leans in to kiss him, and Dirk's free hands goes to his hip, squeezing gently. They're still holding hands, and John doesn't want to let go, but he has to in order to do what he wants to. So he breaks the kiss once he's had his fill, and takes his hand back, and slides off of Dirk's lap to settle between his knees. With Dirk's help, he gets his boxers off, and stares at Dirk's dick. 

It's nice? John honestly hasn't ever thought dicks _ look _ appealing. They look silly. But it's long, and it's thick enough that John's fingers barely touch, so that's good enough to say it's nice. He puts it in his mouth.

"Holy shit," Dirk says, which is pretty much about how John wants him to feel about it.

He moves his tongue in slow circles along the bottom as he takes more of it into his mouth and sucks as hard as he dares. His lips are of course wrapped around his teeth; otherwise, he might've bit Dirk on accident, which would preclude pretty much everything else they want to do here. Dirk's hand settles in his hair, not pushing or pulling, and it feels really nice. John reaches up to take his balls in hand and roll them between his fingers, and Dirk makes a little noise that causes John to nearly choke on his dick because it's _ really silly _ and John laughs. "Shut _ up, _" Dirk says, his face all red under the freckles. John shuts up, but only because talking isn't really possible with cock in his mouth.

John learns that Dirk's moans are _ really _ pretty, and that he likes getting them out of Dirk. He squeezes his thumb to open his throat a little and takes Dirk as far as he can. _ That _ gets a nice groan out of Dirk. He pulls off and sticks the tip of his tongue into the slit at the tip of his cock. Dirk makes a noise like he might be dying. 

When Dirk gasps that he's close, John pulls off, to a soft whine of disappointment from Dirk that he's sure Dirk didn't notice he even made. John stands up and says, "Don't want it to be over yet. Do you wanna.... like, actually fuck? Because if you jizz yourself too soon we can't fuck."

"Wow, John," Dirk deadpans. "That was probably the least romantic way you could have said that."

John considers that for a moment. "Meh," he says, with a shrug. "I can think of worse ways, but your boner might die forever, and then you wouldn't get to see how awesome I am in bed." 

"A true tragedy," Dirk agrees. He scoots back on the bed, and John crawls over to him, hovering over him. Dirk asks, "So, how do you want to do this? I'm good with giving or receiving, doesn't matter to me."

That's a good question! How _ does _ John want to do this? He's kind of in the same boat as Dirk, but saying he doesn't know and then asking Dirk what he wants is just- no. That way lies recursive conversation and madness. Everyone's done that before with some choice or another, and John likes to think he learns from his mistakes. So he says, "I think I wanna top. In this position, like, above you, facing you. I really like making you moan, and plus, like this, I can see your face, and you're pretty."

Dirk blushes. Score.

"Alright," he replies, ducking his head shyly. "Cool, okay, I'm good with that. Sounds great." He points to his bedside table, because he has one of those. "Lube's in the drawer."

Lube is in fact in the drawer! John gets it and pops the lid open. "Do you wanna prep yourself, or can I do it? I want to do it."

Dirk looks like he might spontaneously combust. "You can do it," he says. "Knock yourself out. Except, uh, don't actually do that." 

John just smiles and spreads the lube over his fingers. He reaches down and presses his finger against Dirk's entrance, and gets the lube warmed up so it's not stupid cold, before pushing his finger in. Dirk's relaxed enough that it doesn't take long for John to feel comfortable adding another finger, and John watches his face contort bit by bit. John wonders if he knows how he looks- he's usually so blank-faced around other people, but he's been letting his guard down with John, and it makes John feel warm and fuzzy. Dirk trusts him. Dirk trusts him enough to let him do _ this, _ and he trusts him enough to show how it makes him feel. John can't stop smiling even though his cheeks hurt a little.

Another finger and some teasing to his prostate later, Dirk demands, "Fuckin' _ do it _ already, John! I'm ready- fuck's sake, are you trying to kill me via sexual frustration? _ Fuck me. _"

"Well," John giggles, "when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?" So he finds a condom and lines himself up, and pushes in, and even with the prep, Dirk is so tight that he squeezes a groan out of John. Their faces scrunch up at the same time, and it makes them both laugh. Dirk clutches at John's arms, hands gripping his biceps without reaching all the way around, and when John brushes up against his prostate, he moans so sweetly that John can barely believe his ears. He deliberately grinds against that spot, so he can savor the way Dirk sounds like it's the best dessert he's ever had. Dirk cusses him out when he doesn't start moving for real, just rolls his hips up into his prostate. As fun as teasing Dirk is, he _ wants _ to move, so after just a moment more, he draws his hips back and slams into Dirk.

Dirk _ screams. _

For a second, John thinks he's hurt him, so he stops, but then Dirk hits him in the shoulder(ineffectively) and hisses, "_Fucking move, Egbert! _" 

John moves.

Dirk's grip gets tighter. John's thrusts rock him- rock the _ bed,_ wow- and he actually, honest-to-god whimpers, which is just about the best thing John's ever heard in his life. John leans in to nuzzle the side of Dirk's neck and kiss all along it, sucking hickeys into his skin because, well, it feels good. It's satisfying, and it makes Dirk moan louder, so John keeps doing it. Time starts to blur into itself, dripping and indistinct. Lots of poetry and prose says stuff about how it gets hard to tell where one person begins and the other ends, but it's not hard for John. All their points of contact, even as many as there are, feel distinct and also a little bit like they're on fire, in a good way. John can't _ not _ be aware of Dirk. He's grateful for that, because it means he gets to experience Dirk, and that's the best part of this. He gets to feel and listen to Dirk and make him feel good. He's not sure what the _ point _ would be, otherwise.

John isn't sure how long they go. It doesn't really matter. Dirk is a desperate melted mess under him, rocking up into his thrusts and dragging his nails down John's back, and _ that's _ what matters. He wraps his hand around Dirk's cock, and Dirk cries out, arching his back upwards. But he doesn't cum. John can't figure out why, until he realizes Dirk might be trying to hold back, from the way his expression is all tight from concentration, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed. Maybe he wants John to cum first? So John picks up the pace, chasing his own pleasure, and cums so hard he actually literally sees stars. He didn't know that was a _ thing. _ People have written about it, sure, but he always thought it was just... a metaphor, or whatever. He _ actually _ sees stars, sparks floating over his vision as he gazes down at Dirk, stunned. 

And then he realizes he's left Dirk on the edge, and he starts to move his hand again. Dirk cums only a few strokes later, with a surprisingly quiet sigh, and goes boneless in the space between one breath and the next. His eyes open, and John stops like a deer in the headlights with his tongue between his messy fingers.

"That's _ so _ unsanitary," Dirk says, too blitzed to sound at all concerned. Blushing, John grabs a tissue from Dirk's bedside tabletop and cleans them both off. He pulls out and tosses the condom and tissue in the wastebin, before returning to bed.

Dirk likes to be the little spoon, John discovers. John likes to be his big spoon, to curl up against his back and wrap one arm around him while the other goes under Dirk's pillow. Likes burying his nose in Dirk's sweaty hair, and smelling his vanilla-orange shampoo. "You smell nice," he mumbles, before he can even think to stop himself. It's embarrassing, but whatever. He's too high on endorphins to care. He wants to exist in this bubble of happiness forever. 

"Thanks," Dirk mumbles back. He pulls his bedsheet over them- they're too hot and sweaty for anything else- and falls asleep within a couple minutes. 

John doesn't fall asleep _ quite _ that fast. Instead, he thinks. He thinks about Dirk, and about their relationship, and about their plan. He thinks..... He thinks that..... No matter what happens when they start their plan... things will turn out alright. It's not a certain thing, or something he knows. It's just a feeling in his gut, and those usually turn out to be right.

So, with that uncertain reassurance in his mind, he follows Dirk into sleep.


End file.
